


Remembering the War

by scarredsilk



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarredsilk/pseuds/scarredsilk
Summary: A recollection of all the things Jaime remembers about the war. Mostly, he remembers Brienne, and how she was by his side through it all.





	Remembering the War

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so hyped for the new season and braime and ugh I love them sm so ENJOY <3

They don’t talk about the war.  
They don’t talk about the war but not because they don’t remember it. Jaime could never forget the sights, the smells.  
The pain. He remembers how his armor pinched his skin and the way his muscles ached from swinging his sword. The greater pain though, Jaime does not remember. He doesn’t know when or how his thigh got slashed open, only that it shocked him to see his own skin flapping in the wind.

The noise. Gods, the noise. Swords clashing with swords, the dragons screeching so loud that Jaime swore his ears were bleeding and stopped mid battle just to check. The _screaming_.  
He remembers how men’s battle cries would flip to real tears in an instant. The voices of men barking off commands and soldiers responding with a pointedly “fuck off”.  
Jaime’s own voice, or what he thought was his own, echoing harsh in his ears.  
He remembers the smoke. How it burned his eyes. How it clogged his lungs, choking him. How the bodies still smoked long after the flames were put out.

  
Jaime remembers the quiet. The haunting aura that stayed as the last sword was swung. After it was over, he ordered his remaining soldiers to walk back to camp. None of them said a word as they limped or dragged themselves. Jaime had to carry men who were too injured to walk. They didn’t say anything either, just clutch onto his neck and whimpered from pain.  
The quiet clouded the air more than the smoke ever did. He remembers how it lingered even afterwards. When they all stood in the throne room, looking at each other. Even Tyrion was at a loss for words as he watched Daenerys.  
The dragon queen didn’t immediately sit on the throne like Jaime thought she would. She looked at everyone who looked at her, maybe trying to come up with some speech that could soften the consequences of war.  
Jaime doesn’t remember who broke the silence, only that it was broken with laughter. Someone started laughing, then someone else joined in, and suddenly they were all laughing their heads off. Jaime laughed so hard his ribs pulled and he clutched at his sides. It was an absurd thing to do, they had just finished a war and killed thousands of men and women. The last thing they should do is cackle in their faces. But they weren’t laughing because they won. They were laughing because they could no longer cry.  
  
More than anything, Jaime remembers Brienne. They don’t talk about the war, but they were with each other through all of it. He remembers the night before the fall of Kings Landing. Brienne was cleaning her sword when Jaime sat beside her. They exchanged pleasantries, discussed battle plans. Jaime knew he had to tell her. He knew that this next battle might be it for him, might be it for both of them. He had to tell her before they left to fight. He had to tell her before she looked away. He had to tell her before they died. He had to tell her he loved her.

He didn’t. Jaime remembers regretting that.

 

Brienne was the one to say something about his injury. They were back to back, cutting down soldiers as a team. Jaime remembers feeling invincible with Brienne by his side. He thrived off her energy and skill. Whenever he faltered, Brienne was right there to pick up the slack. After battling a particularly well-trained soldier, Jaime had stumbled a bit, and Brienne quickly intervened. Jaime went back to fighting others, but Brienne yanked him from the battle.

“What are you doing?” Jaime yelled over the sounds of canons.

“You’re hurt!” Brienne called back as she pulled him to the medic tents, slashing down anyone who got in their way.

“What are you talking about?” Jaime shook his head. Surely, he would know if he was hurt. He didn’t take the chance to look at his body. Too many people.

When they finally reached the medic tent and was out of harms away, Jaime looked down. Sure enough, his thigh had been slashed open. Blood poured from the wound, and Jaime remembers feeling nothing but adrenaline. A nurse immediately got to work, tapping the wound shut and wrapping his thigh with fast fingers. Jaime knew it wouldn’t hold, but he had to get back out there.

He remembers looking up at Brienne, just as the nurse finished, and seeing true panic on her face.

“Ser Jaime.” She breathed. Her eyes were locked on his wound.

Jaime felt his heart clench. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

 

Jaime remembers Brienne’s groans as she charged into people. She was fierce and strong and something to marvel at. The way she swung her sword was bewildering, and Jaime had to force himself to stay focused. They worked so well together, watching each other’s backs and knowing when to step in. He remembers wanting to tell her then, in the midst of battle. He didn’t want to distract her though, so he promised himself if they both survived this, he would tell her.

He remembers commanding her to close her mouth. The smoke was choking her, and tears rolled down her face as she coughed. Jaime ducked down, ripping off cloth from a body and using it to wrap over her mouth and nose.  A lot of men took notice and did the same.

 

And Jaime remembers the end. A horn went off, signaling the battle was over and the last of the men had surrendered. The first thing he did was look for Brienne. They had been separated at one point, and he couldn’t find her among the mess. Jaime was never a religious man, but he prayed to the old gods and the new that she was still breathing. Jaime carried men along the way, the quiet starting to engulf the land.

Jaime didn’t have to look for long. He found her carting away bodies with one arm, the other in a makeshift sling. Jaime’s thigh still bled, Brienne’s arm was most likely broken, and they had too many cuts and bruises to count, but they were _alive_.

He remembers falling to his knees, exhaustion and pain finally catching up to him. _She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive_. _We’re alive_. He felt familiar arms wrap around him. _Tell her._

 

He doesn’t remember passing out. The next thing he knew he was in a tent, his thigh stitched up and Brienne beside him.

 

He remembers her laugh in the throne room. He hadn’t heard it in so long and was surprised at the pure volume of it. It was contagious, and it only caused him to laugh more. When the laughing finally subsided, Jaime remembers the dragon queen making her speech. She talked of the war’s outcome and their next move and how inappropriate it would be to congratulate them but that she wanted to anyway.

 

Jaime remembers the look on Brienne’s face as she was appointed to the queen’s guard. They had been so busy with the aftermath of the war that they hadn’t seen each other since the throne room. Jaime worked with soldiers, cleaning up the city and the bodies that riddled it. He didn’t know where Brienne was assigned, only that it felt strange not to have her by his side.

When he heard that Daenerys planned to appoint Brienne to the queen’s guard, he had to see it. The look on her Brienne’s face wasn’t smug or happiness. It was almost disbelief. Like she couldn’t believe it was truly happening. Jaime probably had the same look on his face when he was pardoned for his crimes.

Jaime remembers walking up to her afterwards, a blush finding its way to her cheeks. He thought it odd, considering he hadn’t said a thing yet.

“Ser Jaime.” She greeted.

“Queen’s guard, several men to train, _and_ your very own room at Winterfell whenever called upon? Don’t forget about me now that you’re dripping with honor and prestige.” Jaime kept his tone light, though a small part of him worried that his joke held some truth.

“But I've always dripped with honor.” Brienne said.

Jaime laughed, loud and proper. “That you did.”

Brienne looked away, her enchanting eyes seeming to focus on anything but Jaime himself. “Where will you go? After this is all sorted out?”

 _Ah, she’s pushing me away_ , he thought. “Well, our queen has gifted me back Casterly Rock. I suppose I’ll retire there, something my father always wanted.”

“Is that what  _you_ want?”

Jaime did not like the way this conversation was turning. “I apologize. I have made this all about me when it should be about you. Now, let’s celebrate and—”

“Oh, shut up.” Brienne muttered.

Jaime remembers being at a loss for words. Then Brienne grabbed his arm, the one with the stump, and dragged him from the room. They ended up in the gardens, away from wandering eyes and hushed whispers. However, they were hardly gardens anymore. The snow and ice had frozen over each and every flower.

“If you wanted to kill me, the battle field would have been an easy cover up.”

Brienne glared at him. “Not funny.”

“Really? I thought that was quite amusing. Although, your sense of humor has always been a bit unique.”

“You mean _yours_ has.”

Jaime shrugged as an answer. “Not that I mind being dragged out here, but could you tell me why? It’s bloody freezing.”

“Do you really wish to go to Casterly Rock?” She questioned.

“Duty calls.”

A pause.

“I won’t forget.” Brienne stated, hard and firm.

“Forget what?”

“You.”

Jaime remembers his mouth closing and opening. He remembers remembering the promise he made. He remembers thinking how much their lives were woven together, and if those three words would cement their future, or ruin it. Were certain things better left unspoken? Would he regret not telling her? Now that he didn’t have the jaws of death closing in, he wasn’t in much of a hurry to tell Brienne the truth. Did that make him a coward? Or stronger?

“I don’t want to go to the Rock.” Jaime said, more to himself than to her.

“Then where?”

“I want to go wherever you go.”

Brienne’s tough face seemed to soften at his words. He remembers thinking that if she blushed any harder, she’d pass out. “Because you love me.”

 _Had she really known all this time?_ Jaime realized there was no point in hiding it now. Still, he took a breath before responding. “Because I love you.”

 Brienne smiled, a real one that lit up her blue eyes. Jaime smiled too, so big that he probably looked stupidly happy. Because he was.

“And I love you.”

Jaime did not waste any time in wrapping her in his arms. He remembers feeling frantic about it. Like if he didn’t kiss her in that moment then their love wouldn’t have been proven.  Like they were husband and wife and he needed to seal their love the only way marriage allowed.

Jaime kissed her and Brienne kissed him back. He could tell she was nervous, but she slowly relaxed into it as her hands found their way into his hair. Jaime kissed her and kissed her and remembers thinking that his heart would burst at any moment.

After a while, their kisses became less hungry and more soft. He took the time to explore her mouth and his good hand explored her curves. She moaned against his lips, and Jaime thought it was the most alluring noise he’d ever heard.

 

They don’t talk about the war. Instead, they talk about everything else. They talk in the training yards, they talk in the throne room, they talk so much Brienne considers telling him. Telling him that the gardens was not the first time she heard I love you. When Jaime had fallen to his knees at the end of the war and Brienne had wrapped her arms around him, Jaime had said it, then rightly passed out. It was one of the scariest moments in her life. Not because of what he said, but because she thought he would die without hearing her say the words back.

 

They talk a lot in bed.

 _Gods_ , Jaime loves to talk between the sheets; when the sun is just starting to peak over the horizon. That conversation often involves a lot of “let’s not get up,” from Jaime and Brienne’s answers of “we have to.”

Some mornings, she curls into him and lets them sleep in a little. Those are Jaime’s favorite mornings, when she’s all messy hair and bare legs.

 

They don’t talk about the war. And they don’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> im a sucker for happy endings :''')


End file.
